


The Watcher

by Evilchuckles



Category: Saiyuki
Genre: Exhibitionism, M/M, Masturbation, PWP, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-12
Updated: 2013-10-12
Packaged: 2019-08-01 03:44:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16277165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evilchuckles/pseuds/Evilchuckles
Summary: Hakkai can't stop watching Sanzo. He did not anticipate that Sanzo might have a similar problem.





	The Watcher

Hakkai could smell flowers.

Something night blooming was out in the inn’s garden, drifting in through the open window and washing over the sleeping bodies of his friends. 

He wished that he was sleeping too. 

He’d had too much to drink in the bar. That had been foolish. It was just that he was so tired, the kind of tired where you couldn’t even sleep. Tired of blood and nightmares and the sounds of things dying. Most of all, tired of memory. If only his mind would stop, just for awhile. The endless revolutions of shame and worry and the past was making him queasy. 

When had he last slept? It had been days. Gojyo had noticed and was concerned in his smoky, blunt way. Even Goku had remarked on the bags under his eyes.

Sanzo had said nothing.

Sanzo.

Hakkai couldn’t help it. He turned and looked at the next bed, six feet away. Looking at Sanzo was distracting. It took him a little out of the writhing in his head in these depressive times. He had such times on occasion. A few weeks or maybe a couple of months when the darkness descended and the mask smile got a little more mask like. Got a little harder to maintain. Somehow, while it lasted, looking at Sanzo helped. 

Except that Hakkai had noted that even when he emerged and was, for want of a better word, healthy again, he still seemed to like looking at Sanzo.

Looking at him and thinking about him. 

And touching him. 

Although that last was only in his imagination. 

Gojyo had once called Hakkai a masochist. He’d said he learnt the word from a creative and independently minded chick who had a large collection of whips. “But,” Gojyo had said, “I reckon she was talking about a _good_ kind of masochist. I ain’t sure you’re the good kind. It makes you fucking miserable, is what I’m saying.”

Hakkai had to smile thinly to himself at the thought of Gojyo’s possible reaction if he knew just how right he was. 

Wanting Sanzo?

The definition of self sadism.

The very idea would send Gojyo screaming off a cliff.

But, as Hakkai knew better than anyone, you can’t control who you want. 

He watched Sanzo sleep, watched the moonlight move around the room but frustratingly, rarely in the right place to let Hakkai see more than a thin body under blankets. Sanzo always slept very quietly, in contrast to Goku’s snoring and Gojyo’s mumbling. You wouldn’t know he was in the room at all if you shut your eyes.

Hakkai was hard. It didn’t take much when he was thinking about Sanzo. 

Sanzo was the first person Hakkai had got hard for since…

Since…

And because he was in what Kanan had used to call ‘a bad place’, because it was late and he was more than a little drunk, and because he was so intensely lonely that he thought he might scream, Hakkai let his hand drift downwards. 

Normally he would never do such a distasteful thing, in a room where three other people were sleeping nearby. Such things were for private places. This smacked of exhibitionism, perversion, and despite his past Hakkai didn’t see himself as a pervert. He had loved Kanan. Now he loved Sanzo. She had been his sister. Sanzo was a monk. Neither love was perverted, whatever others might say.

But touching himself in this big bedroom, looking at Sanzo sleeping, with Goku and Gojyo nearby.

Definitely creeping into pervasion territory.

With an emphasis on the ‘creeping’.

In the morning he would blame the alcohol and lack of sleep.

Hakkai moved his hand faster, let himself imagine. 

Sanzo, naked. 

Hakkai had loved Kanan, and wanted her. But with Sanzo there was also a sort of desperate…longing. It hurt. All the time. Along with all the other things which hurt all the time. 

And now his dick was hurting because it wanted to come badly and not into his hand. 

“I would tell you to get a room, but you have a room.”

Hakkai bit his lip so hard that he tasted blood, hand freezing in its slick movements, as Sanzo’s dry voice drifted over the space between their beds.

He could suddenly see Sanzo’s eyes gleaming in the dark. How long had he been awake? Oh god, how long?

“However, it’s also _my_ room,” Sanzo continued, softly.

Hakkai couldn’t decide if Sanzo was speaking softly to avoid waking the others and exposing Hakkai’s shame, or whether it was the deadly softness that Sanzo took on when he was really, really, _really_ angry.

“Sanzo,” he choked, as quietly as he could but his voice sounded strident nevertheless. “I’m so sorry. Please forgive my lack of self control, I,”

“Shut up. I haven’t finished talking.”

Hakkai’s mouth slammed shut with humiliating obedience. Sanzo moved and Hakkai realised that the monk was getting out of bed and crossing the floor.

He was quite sure then that he was about to die.

Sanzo halted at the side of his bed, more clearly visible close to, and stared down at him. His expression was, as always, a combination of pissed off and unreadable.

“Did you think I didn’t know? Am I stupid? You’ve been watching me for months. When you think I’m sleeping, and presumably when I actually am sleeping. In onsens. In bars. Beside rivers and campfires. I’ve had enough.”

“I’m sorry…”

“So you keep saying. But I think I need to even up the score. You’ve been watching me. Now I think I ought to watch you.”

Something turned over in Hakkai’s gut. 

He remembered then how much Sanzo had had to drink in the bar, too. 

“Watch me?” he whispered. 

Sanzo leaned down close enough for Hakkai to inhale the smell of nicotine and beer. Newsprint and exasperation. Lust. 

The youkai in charge of a lot of Hakkai’s central nervous system definitely detected lust. 

Sanzo grinned once, in a slightly sinister, white toothed way, and tugged down the blanket. Hakkai yelped under his breath and went to grab it back, horrified and self conscious and ridiculously turned on. Because his pyjamas were hanging off his foot, where he had pushed them earlier.

Sanzo’s breath stuttered audibly. Hakkai wondered if he had in fact fallen asleep some time ago and was now wet-dreaming. 

“Well, what are you waiting for?”

“I…I…you want me to…?” Hakkai couldn’t make whole sentences. Not with Sanzo so close and giving him that unblinking gaze. 

“Continue. I’ll accept this as an apology for perving at me day and night since we met.”

In normal circumstances Hakkai would have objected to the word ‘perving’ but these weren’t normal circumstances. 

He waited, hoping Sanzo would relent, but nothing happened. 

He should have known better than to try to out stare a cat. 

Hand shaking, blushing so hard that he was surprised there was still enough blood to sustain his erection, Hakkai let his hand slip down. When he made contact with his skin he gasped, and could have sworn he heard Sanzo make a tiny noise too. 

Hakkai lay there in the almost-but-not-quite-enough-to-save-his-dignity dark and pleasured himself while Sanzo watched. 

And pleasurable it certainly was. In a way that it had no right to be. He ought to be feeling turned off and vulnerable. Degraded.

Instead he was more aroused than he could stand and soon barrelling towards orgasm. 

He didn’t even close his eyes.

He looked into Sanzo’s face, watched him. Watched his lips part a little as his breathing quickened. Watch Sanzo drag his stare up his body and then down it again. Watched Sanzo get more and more turned on.

‘By me,’ Hakkai thought, deliriously, stroking himself harder, shamelessly now. ‘He’s turned on by me.’

Hakkai got reckless when he got close, spreading his legs, lifting his hips into it a bit.

Doing this earned him a moan from Sanzo that sent him right into his climax, like a train hitting a wall. 

It was, without a shadow of a doubt, the most extraordinary sexual moment of his life.

So far.

Until, just as he was panting and slumping back onto the bed, Sanzo reached down.

And trailed his fingers through Hakkai’s come, stroking it into Hakkai’s skin, up his chest, across his nipples.

For a moment they just stared at each other. Hakkai watched the doubts drifting across Sanzo’s face. Watched Sanzo shrug.

And then Sanzo slid come-streaked fingers into Hakkai’s hair, tugged him up, and kissed him.

 

It was madness, pure insanity. Him and Sanzo? Masochism of the first order. 

But at least Hakkai did finally sleep.

Eventually.


End file.
